UNTOUCHED
A story by Anette S
Disclaimer: Jo is the boss here; I, a faithful subject, am here only to entertain you.
Author's note: Rolling on. Thank you for all of your wonderful comments!
Now, be forewarned. The pace of this chapter is faster by far than that of the rest, mainly for practical reasons. The next chapter will be paced as usual; fret not.
I hope you enjoy house talk. I had such great fun Googling their possible home, and think I've found the right one. I am not English and have been to London just once, so please don't flame me if I've made some obvious errors.
Hope you like it! Comments are golden!
Finally, a big thank you to my beta dancesabove!
Love, Anette
Chapter 25
Wilmington Square
Their steps were somewhat hurried, not out of need, but simply following that unconscious tendency of people who've just spent some time in a public gathering at a play or movie theatre.
In this case it was a concert, a pleasure Severus much liked but had rarely indulged in during the last decade, and a pleasure he was happy to discover he shared with his girlfriend.
Arms entwined, they discussed the orchestra, the music, the little things that she loved more and he less, their steps eventually slowing down as they reached the bank of the great river.
"Severus, I've been thinking about the move..." she said, after their discussion came to its logical close.
"Should I be worried?" he asked in a teasing manner, earning a smirk and a huff of indignation.
"Really, Severus..."
He could almost feel the roll of her eyes that accompanied her voiced protest. In silent apology for his minor trespass, he wrapped his arm around her waist and they continued their slow walk.
"I don't want to leave London," she said, after a short pause.
They had descended the steps to the water's edge, leaving the busy traffic some feet above them.
Turning to him, she stepped into his loose embrace. The lights coloured the waters meandering around the boat posts as the distant hum of the tourist ferry gave music to the familiar, almost ordinary evening in town.
"Not yet, anyway," she continued, as her eyes rose to meet his.
They had been to see the cottage near Hogsmeade after Minerva mentioned it, but it was too close to Hermione's past; too close to Hogwarts and all she couldn't have anymore. They hadn't even gone to visit the school, despite being a breath away. She just couldn't, and he, as much as it pained him, respected her wishes.
"I see no problem with London," he said. "What do you have in mind, house or flat?" he asked, his own preference being a house, something he was determined to convince her into if she were to have doubts.
"Can we afford a house?" she asked, her practical, mindful side showing.
He smiled. "Those Order of Merlin awards, yours and mine, have been gathering interest at Gringotts for a couple of years, not to mention that I have significant savings stashed in my private safe. I am quite sure we could afford a mansion, as long as it's not too close to the Queen's back garden," he joked.
She'd never really thought about money, not since she was rescued. Knowing that her bank account had been formed with the Order of Merlin money, and knowing the quantity of it, all she had done was arrange, via Harry, to transfer some of her assets to the Lupins' safe. She wouldn't have it any other way, although both Dora and Remus refused the transfer. The result of that was a personal scholarship fund for one Theodore Lupin that collected interest from both Severus's and Hermione's deposits.
"I was thinking about a house; nothing big, but a house. I want a street door."
"I agree. A street door. Possibly a small garden. And nothing modern. Those boxed things unnerve me. A house needs to look like a London house," he added.
She regaled him with a smile. "See? I knew we would find each other on the same page."
"One more thing," he added. "Detached."
She chuckled. "If we can afford it."
"I thought that was settled. And I don't mind saying that I love the use of 'we.' Only to be surpassed by the use of 'our,' once we buy the thing."
She snuggled into his chest, sighing contentedly. "I am so lucky," she murmured as she let her eyes close, relaxing in his arms.
He pulled her close to him, and caught the eye of a passer-by in the distance. The man seemed wistful after witnessing their display of affection, and Severus couldn't help but feel a bit giddy inside. "I am the lucky one," he replied, and so they stood, sharing the silence, the freedom, the anonymity that came with a normal life.
It was not bad posing as a Muggle from time to time.
"So, what do you say to Christmas?" she asked softly, leaning back slightly to catch his eye.
"For what?"
"Moving in."
"Hermione, it's the middle of November," he said cautiously. "And searching for a house could prove to be quite taxing on both our nerves, not to mention time-consuming."
She smiled mysteriously. "Oh, I think we'll find the perfect place soon," she said, and he thought that he'd caught a mischievous gleam in her eye, but it was gone no sooner than it appeared.
It was in the very core of Hermione Granger's personality to always be prepared. The house-hunting situation was no exception.
In the days that followed she recruited the help of the honourable ginger-haired gentlemen commonly known as the Weasley twins, who acted as her personal transporting agents and great company. When adding their charm factor, not to mention a Confundus or two into the equation, she was quite proficiently equipped to meet London's fast and fierce real estate agents.
Setting her sights on a five-bedroom home in Finsbury, since she didn't want to be too far from their friends, she gently informed Severus that detached would probably not be an option in this part of town.
"I know you wanted it, but we will live Muggle-style in a Muggle neighbourhood, so having a townhouse is much safer. Besides, it's Wilmington Square, a short walk away from Dora and Remus," she debated animatedly while they took their afternoon tea.
The eagerness with which she'd approached the house hunt, finally having something to do other than peruse the library, so greatly raised her spirits that Severus didn't have the heart to pull her away from the idea.
In short, if she liked the house – and she obviously did – he'd bite the proverbial bullet and buy the townhouse. The sum of money was hefty, but so were their vaults in Gringotts. Being a frugal man himself, Severus would never have chosen this particular address, but the closeness of the park and indeed, the proximity of Grimmauld were key factors. If Hermione was to function well and be happy in this new life of theirs, she had to be a short walk away from their magical friends. Without the benefits of apparition, he was aware that she would feel uncomfortable surrounded by strangers, no matter the comforts of a more isolated home.
"I guess we might be able to request a special out-of-the-registry Floo address, since we do have privileges at the Ministry," he said, thinking it over. "I would have to throw my presence into Kingsley's face, probably attend some boring gathering or other..." He didn't finish the sentence, because his hands and a moment later lips were much more pleasurably occupied.
"I love you, did I tell you that recently?" she said after they parted. "I know this is not sitting comfortably with you, but it is the most beautiful house! I'm sure you'll love it."
He sighed. "It's not the house, but the safety of it, although I am sure that between Remus, Bill and myself we will make it as guarded as is wizardly possible."
She caressed his cheek, then let her fingers slide into his hair as she settled more comfortably into his lap. "You are worried."
"I have reason to be worried," he said seriously. "When the press finds out," he paused, "and they will find out," he added with disapproval clearly tinting his tone of voice, "I want you to be invisible to them, at all times. I am sure we can construct a permanent shield that will take care of the matter, although it will mean a few months of spell-work."
She grew pensive, then slipped off his legs and returned to her chair. "It's strange, you know. Sometimes I forget," she raised her eyes to meet his understanding gaze. "And then I have to climb a chair to reach a book on the top shelf, or I am washing the dishes and see soap on my hands, and it suddenly hits me..."
He took her hand in his across the table. She never had a huge meltdown when she remembered she couldn't do magic. Being able to see magic happening was somewhat soothing, for if she'd had to remain blind to magic it would have been a huge blow. This way, she still felt it as a part of her life. But being unable to perform it herself, she was constantly dependent on others to do magic for her, when needed. Naturally, faced with myriad issues after her rescue, the loss of magic seemed like a small price to pay. After all, it was her own choice, as she kept reminding herself.
She didn't regret it. Her mind over her magic. Whenever she asked herself whether she'd have chosen differently, the answer was always the same.
"How about we go see that house you picked out for us, tomorrow?" he asked with a small smile, pulling her out of her thoughts. They'd better focus on the future. The past was still haunting them enough that they avoided dwelling on it any more than necessary, although it was a constant battle.
She returned his smile. "I'd love that. The agent is generously holding off all other buyers until we decide," she chuckled, remembered the first viewing with Fred and George in tow. "And he did seem like the most snobbish man on earth when we met," she added casually.
"I guess we can thank the Weasley brothers for the agent's tolerance?" Severus asked with a knowing smirk.
"Well, did you think I took them along because of their great looks? Although, I do believe the agent was flirting with Georgie."
"I never realized George was gay," Severus commented, trying to picture the redhead flirting with some uptight and full-of-himself Muggle. He admitted that it must have been a hilarious sight to behold.
"Gay? No, but he let the agent believe differently. He really deserves an award for his acting skills. I do believe they almost agreed on a date, but then he confunded him, so..."
Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead focused on pouring himself another cup.
As much as he protested, Severus instantly felt inclined towards the property once he'd laid eyes on it. The house was indeed beautiful, and how they managed to find it on the market was a mystery to both of them. Some luck must have come their way at last, for it was definitely not magic that vacated the place.
A week later they'd put their names on the contract. When the transfer of assets came through – and it happened in record time, thanks to a squib bank manager and some moderate obliviation – they were free to take a breath and decide on the more mundane things, such as furnishings and decorations.
"It will be strange in the house without you two," said Dora as she accompanied Hermione to her new home. It was really only a short walk from Grimmauld, making it the most perfect location for all of them.
Hermione smiled, sitting on an overturned wooden box, one of very few things left by the previous owners. "It's the right time, Dora; you know that as much as I do. Remus and you need your house back, much as you might disagree, and it's the right time for us as well," she said, without even a hint of the embarrassed blush Dora had often witnessed in the previous months.
"You are quite the power couple, you know," Dora said, a teasing smile on her face.
"I wouldn't call us a power couple. I read and mope around the house, and Severus is becoming quite proficient at keeping a low profile. The lowest possible."
"You can't blame the man for wanting some peace, and besides, a year without obligations of any sort was just what he needed," observed Dora tenderly, thinking of the haunted man with sallow skin that was Severus Snape during the war and at the time of Hermione's capture.
"He is getting terribly bored," Hermione said, daring Dora to deny it. "He thinks he's so clever at looking occupied, but I know that he is far from content. It's not in his blood to be without a mission for long, as much as he hadn't much choice in the past."
"He is content just spending time with you," Dora retorted smugly. "And that man does need to make up for all the loveless years in his life, if you don't mind me saying it out loud."
Hermione smiled, but her sadness at the thought of the man she loved dearly being so neglected in the past, both by friends and lovers, made her shake her head in disbelief. "I don't understand it. I know he is not the easiest of men, but that no one..." she raised her eyes to meet Dora's "...that no one saw through him. It's unfathomable."
Dora let out a slow sigh. "You do realize that he is as closed up as they get, with regard to his feelings? He doesn't socialize, unless it's with people he has known for years. He's made more friends in the last year than in all the rest of his life."
"I guess being a spy puts a damper on friendships."
"It's more than that. You did him good. You do him good, and you don't even see how much. A year ago he would not have given Harry a chance to even say hello. And now look at them. And Bill... my point is that he's got friends, male friends of the normal kind, not freaks and death eaters with whom he has to act the part. And you made that happen."
Hermione blushed now, averting her eyes. She found it hard to accept praise for anything nowadays – a big change from her previous self. "We do make an odd pair, but we fit, don't we?" she asked modestly.
Dora chuckled, rising from her own wooden-box of a chair. "As I've never seen it."
"Now," she said, looking around, "your wish is my command."
Hermione smiled as she surveyed the walls. "We're painting the walls vanilla in this room. It is to be the library. And no magicking the colour on the walls. Severus said all the work needs to be done manually if they have a real chance to bind the wards as they plan to."
"He doesn't expect us to paint?!" Dora exclaimed, horrified. "Oh no, we're calling the paint people, or whatever they're called in the Muggle world."
Hermione laughed. "Don't be silly. They just said that the paint had to be put on the Muggle way. No one mentioned anything about spelling the rollers."
A new laugh joined theirs, and they turned to see Remus in the doorway. "An idea to be taken into serious consideration. See?" he added, whispering to Dora, who had by then joined him, "still the brightest witch of her age."
"If you two are gossiping about me, know that I'm onto you," Hermione said with mock imperiousness from the far corner of the room.
"I was simply suggesting Hogwarts colours for the library instead," Remus said, to which his wife merely huffed in indignation, before reminding him not to lure the wrath of the Slytherin on the noble house of Lupin.
"You better listen to your wife Wolf, or I'll teach Theodore how to charm your hair pink, whenever he desires so," Severus said, joining the pair.
"So, what does the mistress desire?" Severus asked with a small bow towards Hermione.
She put her hands on her hips and raised her chin up. "Well, if you are prepared to do the work for me, I have a few ideas."
"A few, she says," Remus said under his breath, but loud enough for Hermione to hear him.
With a chuckle she directed them towards the paint buckets. And so the work began.
Whenever Severus Snape thought about home, his mind brought up images of Spinner's End. As he stood in the doorway of their new living room, he could barely wrap his mind around the change.
Blessed was the word he sought.
Blessed that he was given a chance to look at a fireplace in a room that radiated comfort, from the wide sofas to the thick rug strategically removed a distance from the fireplace itself.
A smile sneaked on his face as he remembered Hermione listing, as if from a blackboard inside her head, the reasons why a cream-coloured carpet and Floo ash were not a good combination.
Thus the fireplace and the aforementioned carpet were now separated by a wide swath of dark, polished wood.
She had definitely enjoyed the process of 'nesting' into their new home, and he enjoyed seeing her happy and occupied just as much. He would never admit to enjoying the nesting himself, but (while he thought no one would notice) it didn't pass by Hermione that he had worked on fulfilling her requests with boyish exuberance.
With Bill and Remus, and (surprisingly) the twins' assistance, they had built wards around the house that were almost undetectable, even more untraceable, and most importantly, safe for Hermione and detrimental to anyone with malicious intent towards any of the "approved" ones. More or less, it was as good as it got without placing a Fidelius on the property. It would be impossible to obliviate everyone who would notice a house in the elite part of town simply disappearing one day.
Although there was still some time to spare before Christmas, the spending epidemic that seemed to infest Muggles ever earlier with each passing year was already rampant. All the shops were already lavishly decorated with wreaths and Christmas lights, proudly competing for the prettiest – and some for the most tasteless – window in the city.
A smart contribution to his–no, their living room was a tastefully decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room.
He'd never had a Christmas tree in his life before now.
Once, the mere thought of the holiday festivities had brought out the worst in him. He thought back on those days and tried to meld them with the image of the man whose reflection he now saw in the window.
A man in Muggle trousers and a V-necked jumper, all black but made of the finest and most comfortable wool, dress befitting the exciting new owner of a townhouse in central London.
A man who did not hide his scar anymore, at least not at home.
To their neighbours they were philanthropists, Severus a scientist taking a Sabbatical and Hermione his girlfriend, art lover and poet. Or so the neighbours concluded after witnessing the number of artworks being carried into the house, or encountering the not-so-talkative young lady of the house. Nothing created fanciful family history as fast as not giving much information to your neighbours.
He laughed. Their neighbours thought them as rich as they come, and the style of the furniture they'd brought into the house in plain view of the nosy elite surrounding them had contributed to that impression.
And, well, they were rich. Indeed, when the money transfer came through, they became aware of the pound-to-galleon ratio and how it worked to their benefit. As almost no one from the wizarding world wished to live and buy property in the Muggle parts of England, the amount was startlingly low in galleons, but it acquired them surprisingly high-end possessions.
To say that the Goblins were angry over the transactions would be a gross understatement. Severus was convinced that the only thing preventing the bankers from banning them from further transfers was the fact that he was the notorious Snape. After he'd made a goblin quiver it became quite obvious that his old reputation still preceded him.
Yes, their new home was a true reflection of the sanctuary they wanted to create for themselves. Truly Muggle in the visual sense, the house still had a soft humming vibration, caused only partly by the wards that protected it from the outside.
For they had taken a generous amount of sand from the caves; as much as the lake was willing to release from its shores. It was willing to comply with their requests, so the sand was now woven into the protective layering of colour and plaster covering the walls. The house was literally covered with the physical manifestation of the protection Hermione and Severus always experienced in the Veela caves, and it contributed to the warm sense of belonging he felt, from the moment they walked into the house that evening.
It was to be their first night alone in their new home, and all the details had been taken care of.
Dora and Remus insisted that they complete the move while still living at Grimmauld, knowing full well the stress of working on a home while occupying it, although the Wilmington house was much friendlier towards its occupants than Grimmauld had been when faced with change.
Severus was thankful that they allowed themselves to be convinced, for it had been a simple matter of packing a few things into a suitcase this morning, their last as residents of the old house.
He was roused from his silent reverie by a pair of arms that wrapped softly around his waist, accompanied a moment later by the welcome weight of her torso as she leaned into his back, her breath playing tantalisingly over his bare neck.
"Thank you," Hermione said as she let her hands find leverage over his midriff and pulled herself closer into him.
"For what?" he asked, although he knew it was not a simple question.
She sighed.
A moment passed, a moment focused on the slowly falling snow, on the faint aroma of Earl Grey waiting for them on the small table, and on the simple, untainted freedom of being happy in each other's company.
"Thank you, as well," he said at last, and she did not ask him what for.
He turned silently and he took her hand in his, leading her to the loveseat and opening his embrace for her to nestle in as they let the heat of the tea cups warm the tips of their fingers, their eyes basking in the beauty of their Christmas tree.
They were home.